


Rest for the Wicked

by Measured_Words



Category: Adventure World
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Goblinoid Culture, Leadership, Wound Tending, Ye Olde Adventure Worlde, battle aftermath, let him rest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 09:16:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13831116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured_Words/pseuds/Measured_Words
Summary: Since the defeat of the Maazikai and the rebel Hrieffen, Korivan hasn't had a chance to stop and set aside his responsibilities.





	Rest for the Wicked

Korivan ran the needle through Kraaz's skin carefully. It was something he'd learned as part of the Booyagh, but his other skills had been more valuable, and he'd spent more time honing his magic than his knowledge of the healing arts. The ancestors were quiet, a subtle murmur on the edge of his consciousness, like they were still growing back into the space left by Oraz and Eryvet. It was often a relief when they were quiet, but now he just felt drained and empty. 

He tied the knot off on the current suture and lowered his head to cut the sinew on the edge of his tooth. Sitting back to assess what was left to do, he realized Kraaz was waiting for him to speak.

"Hmm?" 

"Is it the ancestors?" Kraaz frowned slightly. "Or are you just tired?"

Adrenalin had carried him through the end of the battle, and stimulants and a sense of purpose had kept him up this long, but Korivan was exhausted. Kraaz seemed fine, his wounds nothing more that a minor inconvenience, as though he was ready to spring to his feet and fight again should the need arise. This was why he was Hraal. Still, Korivan huffed. "How are you not?"

And Kraaz laughed. "I always sleep well before a battle."

Kraaz and the riders had gone ahead to press into Maazikai territory while the rest had prepared. They'd been the ones to bait the trap, drawing out the foe into the valley where the rest of the army had lain in wait. They'd attacked shortly before dawn – even taking time to get into place, they would have had a chance to camp in enemy territory.

"I had rites to prepare." Travel, fasting, the ritual drugs, the rite itself – sending his spirit to Avalas to commune with the dead – had been taxing, and that was before the battle. He didn't remember most of it, but his body ached in ways his wounds alone could not account for. 

"Yes, our warriors all have tales – feeling the strength of the ancestors in their blows, or seeing their enemies' strikes turned by unseen hands. And you!"

Korivan shook his head. "Oraz…. Eryvet… They worked through me. I don't remember all of their deeds."

"Well, if you're tired, it's no wonder." Kraaz frowned. "Go and rest! My tent is close by. No one will bother you there. At least until tonight."

It was tempting. He'd already spoken to the Booyagh, and they knew their duties regardless. There would be a victory celebration tonight, and they would start back to the city camp in the morning. The usual rule for war was to sleep when you could, so as to be ready to fight when needed, but a Gaath had more responsibility. When had Harizet rested after a battle? He couldn't remember.

"Kor?"

He'd zoned out again. "…Yes." He looked Kraaz over, trying to focus his concentration, but the last injuries that hadn't been dealt with were the most minor.

"Good. Sleep for a few hours. The tribe will expect to see you tonight."

Korivan stood and nodded, but Kraaz was already calling for one of his lieutenants. Inside the tent, the Hraal's bed was piled even more luxuriously deep with furs than his own. He laid down gratefully, and the quiet indistinct murmuring of the ancestors carried him quickly to sleep.


End file.
